The Dark Scholar
by LegendsofKorrigans
Summary: A young Sith Apprentice detaches himself from his master and organization while continuing to explore the Dark Side of the Force, along with a Jedi Padawan who grows unsure of what is most important to her. OC x OC. Reviews are welcome.


"Do not fall behind. The ship is on the verge of collapse; if we do not hurry, we will not catch our prey."

Call me Kazali. Or more formally, Darth Kazali. Or just Kazali; it really doesn't matter to me. And in this great, wide galaxy… I was unfortunate enough to wind up in the talons of a Sith Lord. Barely eighteen and already spiraling down into the darkness. For most guys my age, it's death sticks, or gambling, or beautiful women that'll be their undoing; for me, it's going to be the Dark Side of the Force that ruins it, no doubt. Although I can't say I'm unfond of beautiful women either…

The one who just spoke is my master, Darth Aegda. As he looks at me disapprovingly, as if I was intentionally hindering our progress, his eyes gleam with the unsettling light of the dark side. It doesn't make it any less intimidating that he's two heads taller and substantially broader than me. He's unhappy because my ankle has twisted, and I've got a bit of a limp. My limited knowledge of the Force only serves to slightly dull the pain, and I can see, along with anger, worry in his eyes; worry that we won't reach our quarry in time, that we'll die on this ship. My master is not a very powerful Sith Lord, and his confidence in his abilities is less than unshakeable.

"If you can't keep up, I will leave you behind."

"I know!" I say, much louder than intended. The edges of his mouth curl down slightly, but beyond that he shows no signs of vexation at my misstep. Sith culture encourages strong emotions, lack of restraint, the expression of power through strong emotion; even little things, such as my annoyance at being reminded of my master's lack of care for me, contribute to the practice of letting unrestrained emotion strengthen our connection to the Force. In a moment, he has turned and is halfway down the hallway, and I am forced to hobble quickly after him to keep him in sight.

He rounds the corner, and the lights seem to dim. Something has gone awry in this corridor; I notice some of the lights are broken, a busted security camera alongside a functional one, and feel the soles of my boots scraping metal scraps on the floor. As I nearly trip over one of these, Aegda, without stopping, calls: "Stop looking with your eyes. Feel the way ahead of you; sense the appropriate path." Understanding and closing my eyes for the purpose of concentration, I continue to walk, letting my faith in the Force guide me. I lift my foot, move it forward, and instinctively know to place it a little to the right. I grow more confident in my blind walking with every step, and as I reach deeper into the Force to quicken my pace, I sense something out of place.

I've identified that feeling before, during an excursion on Felucia.

It's the feel of an unfamiliar force-sensitive – no, two.

Both within 300 meters of us.

Opening my eyes all of a sudden, I almost collide with my master's back. He's stopped; it's clear he has noticed them as well. I briefly wonder what he's thinking before he says the words that will forever alter the course of my life.

"Stay here and delay them. If they reach me and I find you still alive, I will kill you."

Usually I wince inwardly at the emotionlessness in his manner or speaking, but this time I'm left standing there in shock. Aegda doesn't wait for an answer; he simply sprints around the next corner, and his footsteps clang as he ascends a staircase out of my view. As the sound of his running fades, I gather my thoughts. The first realization to pop into my head: "He's left me for dead. He knows I can't defeat two Jedi alone." The second is: "I'm going to die. There are two ways off this ship: where my master is going, and where the Jedi are coming from." My reflections on my sealed fate progress no further, and as the Jedi round the corner, I can only think, "SHIT!"

The one on the right is a short, somewhat hunched human with grey hair and lines deeply etched into his countenance, and has nervous, darting eyes. His right hand is already reaching for his lightsaber, and he bares his teeth in a near-feral snarl. He probably thinks I'm a Sith Lord… oh, if only. The other, seeming to note my half-defeated posture and miserable expression, appears far more composed. She is human also, but perhaps slightly taller than me. Her eyes betray nothing about her, but I recognize their color as a rare sapphire blue. I take a brief moment to appreciate how strikingly beautiful she is; shoulder-length brown hair, almost sharp facial features which give the impression of intelligence and lend quite well to her attractiveness; a lean body accentuated by more-than-light curves in all the right places… oh, how I love pretty women. What a pity she wants – no, is going to kill me.

The short Jedi seems to speak telepathically to her, because when he rushes me, she stays back and calmly unclips her lightsaber from her belt. He comes flying at me in a deadly streak of light, slashing downward while launching himself over my head. I've already got my saberstaff in hand, drawing a single blade and deflecting the lethal weapon as my assailant soars away down the corridor in pursuit of my master. And just like that, I'm doomed. I turn my attention back to the young woman, who is in the process of drawing a shoto from the other side of her belt. My despair deepens. I now know for sure that she's a better duelist than me; it takes a lot of skill to dual-wield lightsabers. I still can't use the other end of my saberstaff in a real fight. Oh, well…

She tilts her head, as if waiting for me to attack, then seems to realize I'm not going to. We stand there somewhat awkwardly as the tension gutters out, and she finally asks, "Do you mind?" "What?" "I have a senator to rescue. Could you hurry things along?" "Oh. Oh! I see. Well, um… I'm not feeling really confident about my chances against you. You know, delaying the inevitable." She gives me a pitying smile. "Is that why you haven't drawn your other blade? Or do I just look that dangerous?" I look her up and down, taking in her excellent physique. "You look dangerous, all right." Through the dim ship light, I can't tell for certain, but a light blush may have touched her cheeks. "Aren't we smooth? Let's see if your form is up to scratch."

She pushes lightly off her back foot, then speeds into a charge, so quickly I barely catch her opening movement. My single-bladed saberstaff barely rises to stop her first attack. Her shoto flashes in from the side, and as I intercept that strike, she spins and corkscrew flips over me, slashing downward, and I clumsily hop out of the way. It's then that my worst fears are confirmed.

She uses Ataru, like her companion.

Fighting against a two-saber form is hard enough, but when your opponent is jumping and flipping all around you, weaving a bewildering storm of deadly light in the air, the only thing you can do is back up quickly and hope that you won't fuck up a parry, of which you may have to effectuate a hundred per minute if they're as fast as this girl is. I almost can't distinguish her blades from the afterimages they leave behind. Both of her sabers slam against mine, and only the elongated grip of the saberstaff keeps my weapon from flying out of my hands. As I apply force to my locked saber, I look into her eyes and see them narrowed in amusement.

Oh, great. She's having fun.

I break the saber lock and manage a backward handspring away from her. Despite it not really changing anything, I feel somewhat relieved I at least was able to pull that off. Until she speaks again.

"You're… not very good at this, are you?" I consider agreeing, but then note that her voice is much breathier than before, and grin. "You're getting tired, too. And give me credit for still being alive." We both wipe sweat from our faces before readying for the next exchange. Before I know it, she's in front of me again, whipping her blades around like a tornado. As I frantically defend myself, quickly giving ground in the face of her onslaught, I think of something. Stepping back to avoid a quick slash to the head, I misstep on my foot with the twisted ankle and stumble. She seizes the opportunity, launching into a spin intended to cleave me in two, and is foiled when the same foot kicks her own out from under her. To her credit, she rolls as she hits the ground and dodges away from my ensuing stab. Now she's wary, and noticeably tired. Her chest heaves with deep breaths, and she's not smiling anymore. I do, though. "Now can I get credit for surviving?" She shakes her head in annoyance. "Sure." It's then that my mind makes the connections – her willingness to talk to me, her relatively quick stamina drain, my being able to trick her into thinking I had really twisted my ankle – how couldn't I have noticed before?

She's a Padawan.

My unfortunate admiration of her increases. Even at this learning stage, she's already very proficient at what she does. If I weren't a practitioner of Form III, she would have overtaken me, and despite my survival, I know that I could probably never press the offensive against her. I back away, ignoring the opening she's given me, and in the period of rest, I try and sense my master. He's far away, along with the other Jedi. It's possible they're dueling, given the closeness between them.

Suddenly my concentration is shaken by a tremor which shakes the ship and nearly knocks my opponent off her feet. I hold onto a reinforced cable sticking out of the wall, never minding the possibility of electrocution, and look on as the scene before me changes as the gravity inside the ship starts to fail along with its systems. Several large metal boxes fly down the corridor, almost hitting the Jedi girl. She tries to move out of the way, but the floor tips under her and she almost falls. She's using the Force to secure her foothold, but no Padawan could keep the concentration required to do that while dodging falling objects. One of her feet slips, then the next, and she begins to fall.

In that moment, her facial expression reflects something other than annoyance or amusement. I can't tell if it's fear or surprise or both, but for some reason I decide I won't let her die. Gripping the cable tightly, now almost hanging horizontally, I reach out my hand and stop her. I quickly calculated my odds of being able to stop her fall, and deemed myself able to. However, I didn't take into account the screwy gravity currently turning the ship upside-down, and as I try and move her to the wall, the pressure on my mind increases twofold. The pull I'm fighting is three times what I thought it would be, and I almost let go. She feels it, and for a brief moment I see actual fear in her eyes before it's replaced by shock as she realizes what I'm trying to do. She doesn't fight me, though, and I do manage to get her to a metal outcropping on the side of the corridor before my focus shatters.

As I take in our predicament, hysteria threatens to overcome me before I shake it off. There must be a way out! As I scan the ship, I notice, through the debris flying down the corridor, the opening to what appears to be an escape pod chamber. I make a decision in an instant – I leap, throwing all my Force training into augmenting the jump. I'll make it, I know I will. Only a few meters make up the rapidly decreasing space between me and my narrow escape-to-be.

Then a falling power droid clips me on the head, sending me crashing face-first into the ship wall, just below the entrance. I reach for it, straining to curl my fingers into the doorway leading to the escape pods, but black quickly consumes my vision. As I sigh with despair, the last thing I see is the Jedi girl making the same desperate jump I just did.

Despite myself, I hope she makes it.


End file.
